


A Want or a Need

by Anonymous



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Aromantic, Asexual Character, Explicit Consent, Mentions of sex work, Touch-Starved, aroace Nick Valentine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19057198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Magnolia introduces Nick to the comfort of a gentle touch.





	A Want or a Need

When the song ended she stepped down from the stage and he was waiting, a bouquet of wild carrot flowers in his hands.

"Oh, thank you, darling." He tried to keep his face down but there's no hiding the synthetic skin and bare steel bones. "Valentine, right? From out in Diamond City."

He gave her a sideways glance. The brightness of his yellow eyes startled her. "Guess there's not too many folks out here with a mug like mine, huh?"

"We get _Publick Occurrences_ out here sometimes. That Piper, she loves to talk about you."

"Heh." The slightest trace of a smile flickered on his face. "That Piper loves to talk, period."

"She's passionate. It's a gift." The flowers tingled pleasantly in her hands--just the littlest bit of radiation will do that. She was fond of the sensation; it reminded her of the vibration of music played loud and hard. He'd done his homework, she had to give him that. "What can I do for you, Mr. Valentine?"

"For a start you can call me Nick."

She smiled. "You didn't come all this way to give me flowers."

His smile flickered again and was gone.

"Can we... can we walk?" he asked, gesturing back toward the exit.

If it were anyone else asking she would say no, but for the Commonwealth's most (and probably only) beloved synth she was willing to extend a little trust. She took the arm he held out, and they wove their way through the evening crowd.

"I have a request," Nick said. His voice was low and rumbling--pleasant, like a bass line. "Or a favor. I don't... It's important to me that you know you're allowed to tell me to get lost."

The bar smoke thinned out as they ascended the stairs. She breathed in a deep satisfying breath. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I work in a bar with malcontents from all over the Commonwealth. Saying no is second nature."

He chuckles. "Guess I didn't think of it like that."

"G'night, Miss Magnolia," Ham called as they passed.

"Good night, beautiful," she called back, and Ham laughed.

They stepped out into the night. A light fog rolled through, tumbling from one streetlight to the next. Goosebumps rose on Magnolia's skin.

"Here." Valentine--Nick--stopped under a lamp and untangled his arm from hers. He stripped off his coat; underneath he wore a dress shirt and tie, rumpled but clean. Magnolia wondered if he washed his clothing himself, or if his secretary did that. "Don't want you catching your death."

She let him put the coat over her shoulders. "Always figured you for a gentleman."

Nick turned his gaze to the sidewalk. "Don't say that. Not until I ask you."

Most men were quicker to the point than this. She brushed aside her mild annoyance. That wasn't his fault. "And what is it you're going to ask me?"

The spidery metal of his hand flashed in the dim light from the street lamp as he put his fingers to his mouth. "I need... No. No, it's not a need. I don't want to pressure you. It's not a need, it's a want. I want somebody... I..."

Ah. It was like that. She put her hand on his shoulder. He winced and glanced away. She was still a little annoyed, but it was sort of cute. Who would have thought a synth would be shy? "You don't need to be embarrassed," she said, and at the same moment he blurted out, "To touch me. I want somebody to touch me."

What an innocent way to frame it. "I have to tell you, Valentine, I'm not looking for romance."

"No!" He looked up sharply. "Neither am I. Or... sex. I'm not looking for romance or sex."

Okay... "Then what are you looking for?"

His eyes avoided hers. "Just what I said. I want somebody to touch me that's not trying to kill me."

Off in the distance someone was arguing. A door slammed.

"It's... Hell, I shouldn't have asked. This was inappropriate. I told myself the whole way here..."

"I don't understand. If it isn't sex you're looking for, why me? Why not... I don't know... your secretary, or somebody else in Diamond City?"

"You're the closest I've ever come," he said softly. There wasn't another sound in the whole city. "If I were... if I could... ah... if it were possible for me to... want sex, or romance, or... you're the closest."

A whole lot of conflicting feelings came in a deluge. Part of her wanted to say, "Gee, thanks," and end the conversation as quick as she could. But part of her was curious. "Why?"

"I dunno," he whispered. "Guess I thought maybe you were like me. Or... maybe it's the music? I mean, obviously you're beautiful, too, but if I put too much stock in beauty I'd just depress myself, lookin' like I do. When I hear you sing, though, it's like I can remember feeling that way once."

She waited but he didn't elaborate further. "Only once?"

"Not like that. I don't think I've ever had those feelings. But the original, the guy who was Nick Valentine pre-war, the one who gave me my name and my... he loved somebody. Sometimes I get flashes and I can remember how he felt."

She knew nothing about him, she realized suddenly. She had always assumed that this was what he had developed into--but he was no Gen 3 synth. He'd clearly never been a child, never had the option to be anything other than what he was. There was a story here, one that he very obviously didn't want to tell.

"I can remember, sort of, what it felt like, to just, to have somebody touch you. I need--I want that."

"I see."

"Look, please, please don't feel obligated to say yes. I've lived like this for more'n 60 years. This isn't your problem to deal with."

Magnolia made like she was considering, but even after all this time she was still a sucker for a sad story. "You have a place, or are we using mine?"

He always looked startled with those eyebrows, but now he looked doubly so. Her place it was. 

Whenever she brought somebody back to the hotel she always felt a little self-conscious. As well as she tried to keep up her own appearance there wasn't much she could do about the shabby wallpaper and the grungy mattress and scratched desk and bedframe. Somehow, though, she got the feeling Nick wouldn't judge.

"Home sweet home," she said, holding the door for him. She couldn't help a small shiver. Every time she brought someone home, no matter who they were, she was a bundle of nervous energy.

He stood awkwardly in the corner and didn't say a word.

She still wasn't sure exactly what it was he wanted, so she came over and started undoing his shirt, but he pressed himself back into the wall.

"Wait," he said, so softly she could only just hear him. "There's things I don't have. Free will or not I'm still built like a synth."

Occasionally she overheard conversations at the bar. She hadn't seen a synth herself--at least, not that she knew of--but she had heard drunken laughter about the smooth place between their legs. "That's okay. We can leave our clothes on. Come sit down." The bed creaked--it always creaked, couldn't get a thing done about it--as they sat, side by side. Nick didn't meet her eyes, and she was sort of glad. "How do you want to do this?"

He laughed, a strained, nervous laugh. "Dunno. Didn't think I'd get this far."

The thought of him worrying over this the entire way from Diamond City brought a smile to his face. "How about this?" She put her arms around him in a loose hug. He went tense as soon as she touched him. "Hey, you're fine. Relax... relax..."

"I haven't... I've never..."

"Never what? Gotten a hug?" His silence alarmed her. "Are you serious? Never?"

"Not that I can remember. When you look like this folks don't exactly line up around the block to touch you."

"That is still the saddest thing I've heard all week." She tightened her arms a little and he groaned softly. "Tell me if I'm hurting you."

His voice sounded distant. "You're not."

"You know you're allowed to touch me, Valentine." She lay her head on his shoulder and watched his jaw twitching nervously through the hole in his cheek. After a moment, one of his hands lightly touched her back. It was rough, all scarred synthetic skin. Her instinct to flinch away nearly got the better of her, but when the moment of fear passed she found she enjoyed the sensation. He was stroking her back, very, very lightly. "How about the other hand?"

"I don't..." He glanced away. When she lifted her head to look the bony frame of his right hand was tangling itself in her bedclothes. "You don't want that."

"May I see?"

His jaw tightened, but when she took her arm from his shoulders and turned to see he held it out like a kid afraid of being scolded.

She took the hand in both of hers, tracing the structure of it and gently moving the fingers. It looked almost fragile--the bones, if that was what the metal was meant to be, were thin, but felt strong in her own hand. "Does it hurt?"

"Used to. Nerves are all gone now."

For a moment she wanted to ask what had happened to it, but wounds were always a sensitive topic. "It's beautiful."

"It's really not."

"Maybe you're too close to the situation." She spread his fingers out and brought them back together. Despite its construction his hand worked just like any other. "I actually knew a girl once with a hand just like that. She was born without one, and they reverse-engineered a prosthetic from a synth hand. Must have been... ten years ago or more."

"Kid with claws, huh? Or did they have synth skin to go over it?"

"I don't know. It was just like this when I saw her last. You don't have any feeling in it at all?" He shook his head. "How do you work with it if you can't feel anything?"

"Muscle memory. Watching it. Little bit of luck." He had relaxed a little. His shoulders seemed looser.

"Amazing. Do you want to lay down?"

Immediately he tensed up again.

"We don't have to."

"No, no, I would. I don't mind. I just... I don't usually lie down, especially not with someone else around."

No wonder nobody ever touched him. He was wound up tighter than a pocket watch and it felt like any move she made might set him in a panic. "It's alright."

"No, it's not. I don't have any experience with this. Whatever you suggest." He gently tugged his hand from hers and slid back on the bed, lowering himself onto his elbows. "Like...?"

"Sure, Nick. That's fine." She stretched out on her side next to him, propping her head up in her hand. "Ready for me to touch you again?"

"Whenever you are."

There was something funny and sad about the whole thing, how naturally this came to her but how much he seemed to be struggling with it. Poor guy. She reached out her free hand and laid it gently against his chest. She didn't move it yet, but he shuddered. "You're okay."

"Mmhm." He chewed his lower lip and looked everywhere except at her.

"Talk to me, Valentine. I want to know what you're feeling."

When he spoke his voice sounded strangled. "I'm okay. Keep going."

Didn't sound that way to her, but her arm already throbbed from holding that position. "Lay down flat on the bed if you can." He did what she told him. There he lay, stiff and unmoving, eyes turned away from her. Carefully she sidled up against him, tucking herself under his arm and laying her own arm across his chest. She propped her head up on his shoulder and curled her aching arm in front of her chest. "Let me know if it's too much for you. There's no shame in it, especially not as touch-starved as you are."

"Is that what it's called." His voice was stiff; maybe he meant to ask a question but it didn't come across that way.

"Touch-starved? It's a thing." She was actually quite comfortable. She could hear something--a fan?--whirring inside his chest but apart from that he was no different than anyone else she'd ever slept with. "It's one of the reasons you're supposed to hug kids. If they don't get enough touch babies will die."

"Well. I've never been a kid."

That made two of them. "Just because you won't die doesn't mean it's all you deserve."

The smallest whimper she'd ever heard came in response.

"Too much?"

"No," he choked out. "It's not that. It's nice. Never realized how much of touch is just... It's just somebody else's weight against you."

Okay, Magnolia thought. Let's try this. She wrapped her leg over one of his.

"Oh God," he whispered softly.

"You're okay. Just try to relax."

He was shaking beneath her. "I can't."

"Alright. Let's just hold up for a moment. Give you some time to get used to this."

"I don't think I can."

"You want me to stop?" Is he crying? Certainly not the first time a man has cried in bed with her, but she hadn't realized synths could do that.

"I don't know what I want."

Apart from stopping she didn't know what to do to comfort him. Her usual move was to hug someone or rub their back, both of which seemed to be the opposite of what he wanted. "Nick, if you want to talk, or if you need to cry, or just... let go for a minute... I'm not going to judge you."

He gave a sharp, tight shake of his head.

"Why not? You've got nothing to be ashamed of. I get it. This is clearly bringing up a lot of emotion for you." Without thinking she slid her hand down to have a better view of his face. The moment her hand, her wrist, her arm, came to rest on the soft, vulnerable part of his belly he gave a full-bodied shudder and gnawed again on his lip. A choked sob tore from his mouth.

"What's the worst that could happen if you just let yourself feel this?"

He gasped and panted and trembled. "I... I might need it, instead of wanting it."

"I think you already need it, Valentine."

"Yeah." He gave her a sad, shaky smile. "That's what I was afraid of."

"Nothing wrong with needing things."

"There is if you can't get them." He pulled away from her, turning on his side and leaving her lying there alone. "What am I supposed to do? Ask Ellie to... I ask too much of her already."

That was the secretary's name, she remembered. Cute, sweet little thing, always happy to help. "Is that what she's told you?"

"She doesn't have to tell me."

Magnolia sighed. She reached out a hand and hovered it over his shoulder. "Look at me." He didn't move. Something sharp flared inside her. "Valentine, turn around and look at me." When he still didn't move she grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down on his back. She took hold of his chin and turned his face toward her. "Everyone deserves to have their needs met, and that includes you."

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I... I..."

"You know how you feel when you can help someone? When they--I don't know, what is it you do? Look for missing people?--when you find somebody who's been missing and bring them back to their family. What does that feel like?" He kept looking everywhere but at her. "Not a rhetorical question, Nick."

"Good," he mumbled. "Feels good. Like maybe it's worth being what I am. But I'm not..."

Wasn't that the hardest trick of all? Finding a reason to stick around this crumbling world? "Don't make it about yourself. It's obvious Ellie loves you; she wouldn't have stuck around this long otherwise. Why can't you give her a chance to show that? Why are you allowed to give somebody the gift of caring for them and she isn't?"

He was shuddering harder than ever.

"And if not her, why not Piper? Anybody who reads those papers knows she thinks the world of you. This isn't about romance, this isn't about sex. This is about letting somebody feel like they're doing something that matters."

Evidently synths like him didn't have tears. Even though his eyes were dry it was pretty clear to her that he was crying.

"You have to know this isn't gonna go away just because you ignore it." She laid her hand, gently but firmly, on his belly. He gasped, flinched, but she didn't move. "So here's what's going to happen. Tomorrow you'll figure out how you're gonna ask. Tonight, we're gonna lay here, and you're going to let yourself feel whatever it is you need to feel." She started to rub her hand in slow circles.

"God," he moaned, twisting beneath her.

"It's alright. You're going to be fine." She lay her head against his shoulder again, keeping a little distance this time.

"Can you not... Can you... do that higher?"

Obligingly she slid her hand up to his chest and rubbed there instead. "Better?"

"Y-yeah."

"Your chest hurts, or you don't want me touching you there?"

"Little of both." His right hand, the one without skin, came up and pressed where her hand had been.

"Okay. We'll go slow, then. I'm not going to do anything you aren't comfortable with."

"Magnolia, th... thank you."

Until she heard those words she hadn't realized how long it'd been since someone had spoken them to her. "You're welcome, Nick."

Magnolia woke to the sunlight blinding her. Somehow the blinds were broken in such a way that they angled the light right into her face. For a moment she lay still, gathering up her thoughts. Morning always came too early.

When she decided she was awake enough to move she adjusted her head, still on Nick's shoulder, so she could look up at him. They'd never gotten back to the point where she'd hugged him. He really did seem to want the weight of somebody else against him, but every time they tried he'd spiral back into panic and eventually she'd just settled with stroking the back of her hand along his broken cheek.

"Feeling okay?" she asked.

His eyes looked almost human with the bright sunlight hiding their glow. He didn't speak for a long moment, and when he did it was like something very old and very tired returning to life.

"That was rough," he said hoarsely.

"I could tell."

"I'm sorry. Should've left you out of that."

"Don't worry about it." She stroked his cheek again and he closed his eyes. That much seemed enjoyable to him, at least. "I can't make a habit out of this, but I know perfectly well you're capable of finding someone who will. If nothing else, go hire yourself a sex worker. They do know about more than just sex." His face contorted in a pained frown. "There's no shame in it, you know. Just a job like any other. If you needed someone to fix a mechanical problem, wouldn't you hire a mechanic?"

"Heh."

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" The idea of Nick trying to rewire his own circuits, struggling to reach places he couldn't possible, brought a smile to her lips, but it wasn't funny. "You don't take especially good care of yourself, do you, Valentine?"

"You know what they say about folks who live in glass houses."

How much did he know? She caught herself wondering, but then he was a detective, after all. "Nobody's going to do it for you."

His head tilted just a little, into the palm of her hand. "Yeah."

She ran her thumb over his cheekbone. In response he gave a faltering sigh. She'd missed being with someone, she decided, but it definitely couldn't be a regular thing. She was ready to be done socializing.

"I have to head back now." She lifted herself up on one elbow, tugged her dress straight, and leaned down to kiss the dry, cracked skin of his forehead gently. "You take care."

She didn't look back as she walked out of there, but she heard him whisper, "I'll think about it."


End file.
